


Who Wakes the Sleeping Lion?

by PirateQueen890



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Feels, BAMF Allura (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), BAMF Romelle (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Evil Dictator Lotor, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt Allura (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lotor is DETERMINED to marry Allura, Next Generation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Queen Allura (Voltron), Rebel Groups, Takes place at least a decade into future, au after season 7, quick-paced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateQueen890/pseuds/PirateQueen890
Summary: The little ones where being carted away, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but prevent the same happening to his youngest.Or, a future fic very loosely based off of the story of Moses as told by The Prince of Egypt. Technically not an AU? (Nevermind.)





	1. Prologue - Deliver Us

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron nor the characters from it. I only own my original characters.

The little ones where being carted away, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but prevent the same happening to his youngest, even if just the thought of leaving hundreds of other little children to the mercy of the Galra tore his heart to shreds and then burned it to a husk.

_I can’t do anything._

“ _Papá_ , where are you and Allie going?”

“Somewhere your baby brother will be safe.”

He hated that instead of being innocently confused, as any regular child of six years would be, his daughter glanced knowingly outside at the darkened streets, flinching at the screams and sounds of shattered glass. How had their perfect world come to this?

Under the watchful eyes of his elder two children, he gently tucked his baby into the basket, wrapping him up snuggly for what he knew would probably be the last time. Little Hugo peered into the basket, pink eyes glinting curiously.

He closed the lid of the basket and bopped three-year-old Hugo on the nose. The boy blinked and rubbed his nose cutely, making his father chuckle.

“You be good for your sister while we’re gone. Remember, Lina will need your help too, strong guy.”

The boy nodded silently.

“And you both know where to go if anyone but your _papá_ comes here?”

They confirmed again, eyes flitting over to the seemingly solid kitchen wall.

He took a deep breath, and the children, sensing their father and youngest family member were about to go, whispered their goodbyes to the baby in the basket.

“Bye-bye, Allie.”

He felt the awful tears press up behind his eyes, knowing this would be the last time his children would all be together for a long time.

“I’ll be back before you know it, and Allie will be just fine.”

“We know, _papá_.”

Gathering the basket in his arms, he went out the door, closing it and the view of his too young but too old children.

He had to get moving.

Screams echoed off the walls of the buildings, the sound becoming more horrendous the farther they traveled. They came from the mouths of mothers as their little babes were ripped from their arms, older children and fathers as they angrily tried to fight back, and the little ones themselves as they were taken into the cold halls of the emperor’s palace. His heart begged him to stop and turn back, to fight for the people that had become his, but his mind and soft whimpers coming from the basket in his arms reminded him that he _was_ helping. He was doing the only thing he could.

His feet carried on, and the training of years past kicked in as he silently snuck down both abandoned and overcrowded streets. Lotor’s soldiers certainly weren’t taking such a stealthy approach. They trampled and shoved past Alteans who stood in their way, kicked down doors with brute force, and savagely ripped families apart. The smell of smoke in the air and the heavy taste in his mouth suggested they had resorted to fire as well.

It disgusted him.

He was always one for the more approach requiring more... _finesse_. Such was his role in defending the universe.

“Halt!”

He failed to miss a step, hoping-- _and dreading_ \--the call wasn’t for him. With the closed basket in his arms and the direction he was headed in, he could easily be suspected of resisting. Scratch that, he _was_ resisting. Hastening on, he turned the last corner and carefully waded into the tall bushes surrounding the river, ignoring the thin branches scratching his arms and cheeks. He judged himself to be a safe distance both from the shore and the edge of the bushes’ cover, and then carefully lifted the lid of the basket cradled in his arms.

A little hand poked out and touched his cheek.

“ _Hola, mijo,_ ” he whispered.

Tiny lips curved upwards into a smile.

He laughed softly. “You’re a charmer, just like your _papá._ They won’t be able to resist you, will they? With that cute little smile and adorable laugh…” He trailed a finger down his son’s soft cheek, gently touching the light blue markings beneath his eyes. “Yeah, you’re going to be just fine, Allie.”

The baby cooed, grasping his father’s finger with his tiny hands.

“I love you, _mijo_ ,” he said, feeling the tears build behind his eyes. “And so does your _mamá_ , Lina, and Hugo. We love you so, _so_ , much.”

He didn’t know when he would be able to say it so openly again, so he said again and again and again, just to make sure his son would never forget.

Another cry sounded from the city behind him, followed by the pounding of armored footsteps. He turned sharply to look around, realizing his time was short.

“It might be difficult sometimes, where you’re going. You might feel lost and lonely and scared. But always remember that you are never so alone as you think. We will always be watching over you, _mijo_. I will always be right behind you, ready to catch you if you fall.”

His head whipped around again at a sudden clatter close by. He needed to get moving. He pressed a kiss to his son’s curly white hair, and reluctantly closed the basket’s lid once more. Releasing his son to the river’s flow, he whispered one last thing.

“I love you...Alfor.”

He took one last glance at the basket as it floated down the river...and left.


	2. All I Ever Wanted PART I

 

His hair wasn’t going to flatten down. Prince Mas knew this, but he tried anyway because his teacher insisted on absolute perfection and strength. He wasn’t too sure what that meant, but apparently being able to tame your hair was a sign of dominance since before the Galrans began travelling to the stars. Not for the first time, he wondered just what his Galran ancestors were thinking when they developed their culture.

Mas scooped out another dollop of the strange, gel-like substance his father had given him. His father, King Lotor, always had the most perfect, in-place hair. Since Mas obviously hadn’t inherited his mother’s straight blond hair, his father had taken over on giving him advice in hair styling. He carefully smoothed his hair down again, smiling triumphantly when no curls popped out of place. Sure, he thought the style looked terrible, but it was neat, and that was something of a small miracle.

He straightened his tunic and took one last glance in the mirror. As always, he couldn’t help but notice he looked nothing like his parents. His white hair was curly and short, where his father’s was elegant and long. His eyes were a deep blue, not at all like his mother’s purple. His ears were pointed, yes, but did not possess the elegant curl of either parents’ ears. Now, Mas may still be a child in the eyes of many, but he was a very perceptive child. He knew there was another one of the many secrets of his life hidden there.

Mas sighed, and turned away from the mirror. The day had barely started and already he was thinking about mysteries he had yet to solve. Today he was twelve years of age. It was time to put his focus into other things. Nodding resolutely, Mas grabbed the satchel that was packed for him the night before, and exited his chambers.

The castle belonging to the royal family of the Galra-Altea Alliance was situated over the large river flowing in from the main city. Its halls were wide, arches grand, and technology the most advanced in the universe. At least, it had been twelve years ago when the Galra-Altean Alliance first formed, and before his father closed New Altea off from the rest of the universe.

He was the prince of an Alliance between two of the universe’s most advanced species, and yet Mas had never left the planet of his birth. But he had heard his father: soon, that would change. And although the lessons he dreaded were to start soon, he couldn’t help but feel a sliver of excitement as he thought of what lied ahead.

Soon he approached the throne room, where he was required to greet his father before leaving for his lessons. His mother stood outside the door, and Mas frowned.

“Mother, is something wrong?”

The Altean woman jumped in surprise, having not noticed him until that moment. “Oh, Mas! Happy birthday!” She put on a hasty smile.

“Mother…”

“It is nothing you need to concern yourself about. All will be fine.”

“So there is something happening.”

She hesitated. “Well...yes, but you have your lessons to get to, don’t you?”

“Can I help? There must be something I can do.”

“You just want to avoid you teacher, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. His mother knew him well.

Mas didn’t deny it. “I know something is really wrong when there is only a single door between you and Father.”

That was true. As long as Mas could remember, his mother refused to be in even the same building at the same time as his father. Even though his mother was married to his father, she never called King Lotor her husband. Although Mas was still a child and in every child’s mind their parents were the perfect example of a loving couple, he could clearly tell there was no love in the marriage between King Lotor and Representative Romelle.

“What, are you not happy to see your mother?”

Mas flushed and waved his hands in a panic. “N-No, wait--th-that is not what I-I-I meant!”

His mother laughed, purple eyes dancing. “I am teasing.” Then she took notice of his hair. “What happened to your hair? It looks like a Quazafer licked it.”

The boy deflated. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes, but what are mothers for? I’ll fix it.”

Then she messed up his hair.

“Mother!” The prince squawked.

“What? It looks so much better now with your handsome curls all springy again.”

Her son groaned. “Teacher is going to pulverize me!”

“Then you tell her that Representative Romelle likes your hair better this way and there will be no more debate. There is nothing she can do about that!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was given no chance. In that instant, the doors to the throne room burst outward, and Mas was thrown to the ground. His head hit the solid floors hard, and the next vital moments became a blur. At some point an arm wound its way around his head, lifting him off the ground and pressing Mas against a woman’s chest.

When his vision cleared again, he was standing hostage with a knife to his throat. His father and several Galran soldiers stood before them, anger flashing and weapons held ready. His mother’s face was deathly pale, as if her worst nightmares were coming true.

_And maybe they are._

The soldiers inched forward.

“DON’T MOVE!” Screamed the more than slightly deranged voice behind him. “If you do, the little prince will get a pretty new necklace to wear around his throat!”

The knife pressed deeper, and Mas was suddenly quite sure that didn’t mean the crazy woman holding him hostage was going to buy him something sparkly. Which was honestly too bad as he had a strange love for glittery things.

“What do you want, Lion?” His father asked in his usual calm and charming tone.

“I want my people to be free, but I hardly think you would simply grant me that, would you Prince Lotor?”

Mas felt very confused. And terrified, he couldn’t forget that. What was she talking about? His father was a king, not a prince. To call him anything less was almost treason. And what people? Under his father’s rule both the Alteans and Galrans on New Altea were free, working together to prepare for a new universal empire. Neither was greater than the other. Wasn’t his father, who was half-Galran and half-Altean, the perfect example of that?

_Surely Father will correct this misunderstanding._

King Lotor was silent.

“Just as I thought,” the woman said bitterly. “I suppose that we will just be going then.”

The woman began to drag Mas backward, and he felt a flare of panic.

“There is no need to take the boy along. Stay, and we will work this out, Lion.”

“Like how you did with my father? No, I know better than that. We’ll be taking our leave now.”

With that, the woman began to drag Mas backward, keeping a careful hand on the knife at his throat. His mother threw out a hand, as if she could somehow reach him from across the wide hallway. They moved further and further back, closer and closer to the open window overlooking the river. Mas realized then just what she was planning. The fastest way out of the palace was through the window...and into the river. Mas felt the dread and sense of hopelessness creep up on him. There was nothing he could do. He just hoped the woman remembered that it was also the deadliest route.

“Your father was a traitor to New Altea, just as you and the rest of your despicable Lions are.” A familiar rage and taste of insanity crept into King Lotor’s voice, a tone Mas had not heard, had not _wished_ to hear, since that awful day. Just thinking about it make tears well up in his eyes and threaten to overwhelm him.

“MY FATHER WAS THE MOST LOYAL PERSON THERE EVER WAS TO QUEEN ALLURA AND NEW ALTEA! HE GAVE HIS LIFE FOR THIS WORLD! IF ANYONE IS A TRAITOR HERE IT IS YOU!”

The scream of grief and righteous fury silenced the occupants of the hallway. The ragged breathing of the woman holding him hostage sounded loudly in his ears, and beyond that the rush of the waters below.

She spoke again, voice veiled with calm and control. “If that is how you mark traitors, then I know all I need.” And then she fell backwards out of the open window, dragging Mas down with her. The last thing the prince saw before plunging into the depths were the glowing, insane eyes of his father.

* * *

Although it seemed only ticks ago, Mas knew it had truly been varga since he had fallen into the river. He woke to comfort and warmth, contrasting so sharply with the pain and cold that had assaulted him before he fell unconscious. In his mind, there was simply no way it could have changed so quickly from danger to safety, bad to good.

He felt as if he were lying next to a warm fire, bundled in soft blankets and watched over by a loving and gentle eye. It was a feeling he had not felt since his minder died five deca-phoebs ago. The feeling brought memories back, and although they were happy, he could not help but feel once again like he was drowning. He needed to breath, to escape. With a sorrow-laden heart, the young prince finally opened his eyes.

He was stumped for a moment as he stared at the rough, rocky ceiling. Then he figured out where he was.

_A cave?_

His eyes flicked around the chamber, taking in the sights revealed by the comforting orange light. He was on a low pallet in a corner of the small room, and a single candle glowed on the floor. It brought light into the room, but what really lit up the chamber was the fire Mas could see glowing outside the entrance, shining brightly in the night.

Wincing, Mas carefully pulled himself up. When the blankets slipped down, he saw a few bandages on his arms and a number of bruises that had not been there before. That definitely confirmed it. It had to have been at least a few hours if bruises were showing up. He frowned as he thought back to the events leading up to that moment. He knew he was in a cave, but where? How far had the river carried him away? Was it the woman who held him hostage that had bandaged his wounds? If so, why did if feel like he was not a prisoner?

He moved his ankles, making sure there were no bindings there. Feeling no resistance, his frown deepened. Maybe he wasn’t a prisoner…

“You’re awake! Thank goodness!”

Startled at the familiar voice, Mas lifted his eyes to see a young Altean woman enter the cave, a relieved smile on her face. He knew who she was, yet his brain could not associate the kind looking woman before him with the rage filled voice of his captor.

“You are the one who kidnapped me!” He accused.

The young woman awkwardly knelt down beside his pallet. “Ah…well, yes.”

“You got out safely. Now let me go home.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. It was strange, how Mas felt in that moment she was making a decision that could not be taken back, a decision that would change everything.

She nodded to herself and suddenly shouted outside into the night. “Hugo!”

A few moments passed before a tall Altean boy younger than the woman but older than Mas entered the chamber. The boy glanced at Mas carefully, and although no emotion graced his smooth face, the prince could see a change in his pink eyes. He looked to the woman for direction, a hesitance in his glance that Mas somehow knew was uncharacteristic for this soldier-like boy. She patted the ground beside her, and the other boy knelt down as well. Then they both looked at him, both faces so painfully familiar and similar to the other, even if one was painted with surety and the other with uncertainty. It was obvious to him that they were siblings.

“You will be able to go home, but first there is a story we need to tell you.”

With as much relief as he felt in exhaling then, Mas could almost believe he had not breathed since falling into the river. He could go home! And he was not complaining about the story either, even if it was a bit strange. Mas loved stories. He settled in, getting himself comfortable, and nodded to his captors, letting them know he was ready for story time. He could have sworn the woman looked both sad and amused.

“It wasn’t too long ago when the universe finally gained peace after a ten thousand deca-phoeb long struggle against the conquering hordes of the Galra Empire. The final battle was great, and every resource the resisting forces had were needed to finally end it. Every alliance made, weapon forged, and soldier created. What made the decisive victory was Voltron and its Paladins. Peace came, but much rebuilding and healing was to be done. For Princess Allura, the Blue Paladin, that was to find her people and create a new Altea. Voltron made one last official and symbolic voyage to the hidden Altean colony. The war with the Galrans begun with the destruction of Altea, so they hoped that with rebuilding it they could finally feel that the war was ended. They came here,” she patted the rock ground of the cave, “to this planet and created New Altea.

“The princess and the other Paladins were welcomed, and eventually she and her husband were instated as the beginning of the new Royal Altean Family. She became the Queen of New Altea, and her husband, the Red Paladin, was her Royal Consort.” Her voice softened, and her hands clenched together. For once, Mas could not tell if it was from grief or anger. Maybe it was both. “His name was Lance McClain, and he was from Earth.”

Listening to her words, Mas felt as if he had been punched. Memories of his kind minder rose in his mind and with them the sound of the firing squad that had executed him.

The woman paused and looked at him. “You knew him too, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He whispered.

“He was our father.” Hugo spoke for the first time. Mas stared at him in absolute shock. The older boy’s voice was quiet and rough, as if he had not spoken in a long time.

“That means you are Queen Allura’s children too. You are part of the Royal Family?”

“That’s right. Do you see now?”

Mas was silent.

“Anyway, back to the story. They had a daughter first, and her name’s Lina.” She flashed him a smile. “That’s me. Two deca-phoebs after, Hugo was born.” The corners of said boy’s mouth lifted slightly in the barest hint of a smile. “Then, Alfor, or Allie, was born three deca-phoebs after Hugo.” Her eyes flickered over to Mas’, and it seemed as though she wanted to say something else, but held her tongue.  

“Wait, where is Alfor?”

“That’s for us--his elder siblings--to know and no one else. Now shush and listen to the story.”

A small pout flitted across the prince’s face, but he could see why they wouldn’t tell him. Although he had been taught his whole life that the Galrans and Alteans were working together in a new alliance to benefit them both, Mas was getting the feeling that not everyone was happy about the arrangement. He thought about the encounter between Lina and his father. Why had they acted that way? Did his father know Lina was the Queen’s daughter? If he did, then surely he would not allow her to be harmed. He did not think anyone else had realized it, but Mas knew his father loved Queen Allura. That was why his mother, Representative Romelle, was not Queen. Mas remembered the nights when his father was different, when his eyes almost seemed to glow. On those nights, she was practically all he spoke about. He knew King Lotor would not hurt her children. Then again, Mas though with a pang in his heart, his father killed the man she loved. He could very easily do the same to their children.

He knew there was something he was missing...

“Six phoebs following Allie’s birth, our mother was called away to an emergency meeting on Earth. We haven’t heard from her since, nor anyone else beyond this planet. Soon after the Queen left, New Altea was invaded by Galra forces led by Prince Lotor, who was supposed to have died so long before in the quintessence field. New Altea had no time to prepare, and so our family was forced into hiding, but Representative Romelle stayed behind to cover our escape. Lotor established himself as a dictator, forced Romelle to marry him to solidify his position, and claimed to be king. He also claimed to have created a peaceful alliance between the Galrans and Alteans. ‘Together,’ he said, ‘the Alliance would create a new universal empire with both species ruling them all’.”

She chuckled bitterly, and again Mas was reminded of their first meeting. Hugo glanced over at his sister carefully.

“Lotor is such a liar.”

Mas started, feeling the overwhelming need to defend his father and his own position as prince, but one look at the young woman’s face was enough to convince him to bite his tongue. There was a sorrow and frustration there that the prince did not want to be turned on him.

“The Galra under Lotor subjugated the Alteans and forced them into labor; Lotor had them building weapons and ships, and drained many lives worth of quintessence. He is still doing it, preparing for when he will launch his universal attack.

“Six phoebs into his rule, he called for all of the little Altean children to be brought to the palace. Every child between six phoebs and two deca-phoebs was to be taken. Fortunately, Romelle was able to tell our father before hand of Lotor’s plan. Our father and the other members of our underground resistance, the Lions, managed to hide many of the children, but there was no time to hide them all.” Her voice grew shaky. “I remember that day. Never before had there been such a sound on this planet, the sound of hundreds of families being torn apart. Many of the children who were taken were soon rescued again, but we learned what Lotor was doing with them. He was having experiments conducted on them, trying to find ways to harvest more quintessence. So many little ones died…”

“Wait, your youngest brother fell in that range, did he not?”

She nodded. “To save Allie, our father tucked him into a basket and and snuck down to the river bank. He put him on the water and...let him go.”

“He let him go?!”

“He wasn’t trying to trade one death for another, little prince. Romelle was waiting with her maidservants in the river gardens by the palace, ready to pick Allie out of the river.”

“What if she had not been able to? What if she missed?”

“Then Allie would have died. It was the only way.”

“Why did he not just hide Alfor with the other children?”

“Because he wasn’t just doing it for his son’s sake. He was doing it to save all of New Altea too. Romelle would be able to protect Allie in a way no one else could, and if Allie became her and Lotor’s adopted son, the Lions would have a way into the palace.”

Mas felt his heart pound as that last sentence registered.

“What did you say?”

The two siblings glanced at each other. “Allie became the son of Lotor and Representative Romelle. He is the Prince of New Altea.”

A cold sweat overcame him as the pieces finally fell into place. His father’s strange attitude towards Mas made sense now; cold yet gentle, sad but loving. And his reason for his mother and her hatred for his father was made clear. But if this was true...then they were not truly his parents. His mother was Queen Allura, the legendary lost Altean royal and Blue Paladin, and his father was Lance McClain, the Red Paladin from Earth and the founder of the Lions. And his father then was the minder Mas saw killed before his very eyes five years ago.

_Could it be true?_

For the first time, he really took in the two rebel fighters who claimed to be his older siblings. Lina’s hair was long, dark, and straight, its few waves reminding him of the river that had apparently delivered him to the palace. Her skin was a shimmering brown, a few shades lighter than her hair. She was young, seventeen deca-phoebs based on the story, but her eyes were old and weary. They reminded Mas of his own, blue like their father’s, and the markings beneath her eyes matched them in the same dark shade. And he could not deny the similarity between their faces.

Hugo was different. His eyes and markings were a light, vibrant pink, and it almost made Mas laugh that such a color was so prominent on a solemn boy like Hugo. Maybe it fit, however, because for the Alteans, pink was the color used to honor fallen warriors. His hair was a lighter brown compared to Lina’s, and so was his skin tone. But like Mas, his hair had the same brand of untamable curl.

Then he noticed their ears. Like him, their ears were pointed, but not like other Alteans’. They lacked the elegant curl. And again, like him, their markings were less prominent. Was this because they were not fully Altean? Because they were half human?

The evidence of the truthfulness of their story was sitting right in front of him, so how could he deny it?

And yet, he could not accept it. Not now.

“Is there still more to the story? Or is it finished?”

The young woman-- _his sister_ \--shifted again, and Mas could see the crestfallen sadness and disappointment in her eyes. “There’s a little more. Romelle also managed to get our father-” hearing that now made Mas’ heart tighten “-the job of watching over you as your minder. In that way he could look after you and search for the reason why no one was going in or out of our system. He knew there was something preventing anyone here from receiving messages and visits from outside. And he found it. There is a device of some sort cutting us off and hiding New Altea. But all we know is that it is in the palace. _Papá_ -” a choked sob left her throat “-was caught and executed before he could get that information to us. To save our world, we need to get a message out to our mother.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re our little brother, and only you have the chance to find that device and disable it. Lotor doesn’t trust Romelle and would suspect her of doing something like that. But you, you’re the child he helped raise, whether willingly or not. He won’t suspect you.”

“Why would I help you? Why should I believe what you are telling me is true?” He stated it simply, without any anger.

“Is the truth not obvious enough? If you still need proof, go into the city. There you will see. Or, speak to Lotor or Romelle. They might try to hide it from you, but nothing can hide in the shadows forever. Eventually everything will be brought to light.”

“So, that is it? The story is done?”

“...Yes.”

“Then I can go now, yes?”

She hesitated, and then nodded carefully.

Mas stood, ignoring the various aches and pain he felt from his fall. Giving no glance to his supposed siblings, he exited the cave without looking back. It was night, but the lights of the palace shown in the distance. The river seemed to have carried them some distance, but Mas could make it back.

“Allie, wait!”

Mas ran, paying no heed to the branches whipping his face or the forest as it sped by. Tears blurred his eyes, and memories of blue spilled with them.

He missed his minder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you could probably tell, Lance is dead. Yup. I thought about it long and hard and decided that this would make the most sense and the greatest impact on the story. Don't worry though because he's a main character and as such will be featured prominently in flashbacks. This story is more about the new generation rising up and the whole passing on of the torch. 
> 
> What do you think of the kids?


	3. All I Ever Wanted PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron. I only own my own characters.

_“Mas!”_

_The little boy paid no mind to the call, focused entirely on the datapad before him. His tongue stuck out cutely as he maneuvered his writing utensil. He only had a few more lines to go and then his picture would be perfect!_

_“Where are you, Mas?”_

_He drew one more wobbly curve, smiling brightly as he examined the drawing. It was finished! Mas listened carefully then--remembering who was looking for him--and heard the soft, familiar footsteps. Quick, quick! The boy crawled under his bed, hugging his datapad tight. His excited breaths and pounding heart echoed loudly in his ears._

_The door opened with a gentle sigh, and Mas peeked out. He saw the rough boots of his minder as he entered the room, and his heart sped even faster._

_“Are you here, Mas?”_

_His minder walked closer to Mas’ hiding spot, the brown boots stopping right in front of the little boy, so close his warm breath condensed on the worn leather._

_“Hmm,” his minder thought aloud. “What about...here?” A whoosh sounded as the covers of the boy’s bed flew off. “Not here…”_

_A giggle burst its way past Mas’ lips, unable to stay inside any longer. He wished he could see his minder’s face!_

_“Then maybe...right here!” The little boy let out a shriek of terrified joy as he was swept out from under the bed and spun around in his minder’s arms. “I found you!” His minder laughed and Mas beamed, only the tiniest bit disappointed about being found._

_When their laughter subsided some and Mas was placed again on the ground, he remembered the datapad he clutched. “Look, look!” he said excitedly._

_His minder took it from him, chuckling. “Alright, come over here.”_

_They sat together on the edge of his messy bed, looking at the child’s drawing. It portrayed two carefully drawn stick figures, one towering over the other. They were holding hands next to a purple lake and a field that was more flower than grass._

_“Do you like it?”_

_His minder was silent, sitting very, very still._

_Mas tugged on his sleeve. “Minder?”_

_The boy was swept up in a wild embrace, and his minder laughed, “I love it!”_

_What Mas would always remember was in that moment, his minder’s eyes were blue, not their usual green. It was like truly noticing them for the first time._

* * *

_“Mas,” his minder said. “I need you to stay here. If anyone you don’t know tries to touch you, you scream as loud as you can. Understand?”_

_He barely managed to nod, fear freezing every limb and melting every thought._

_His minder smiled softly, ruffling his hair. “I’ll be back soon, so don’t you worry.”_

_He left, and although Mas trusted his minder more than anyone else in the whole universe, he could not help but wonder how long soon was as each dobash ticked by without his minder anywhere in sight._

_The shrieks of blaster fire sounded closer, and Mas’ fear heightened. His minder told him not to move, but the seven-year-old couldn’t stop the shaking of his limbs. He tried to move down closer to the ground and further behind the couch._

_A mistake._

_“MAS, RUN!”_

_And he did, trusting the voice he knew better than any other. He ran and ran and ran, until the ground became the sky and the world was a mess of bleeding blue. Warm arms wrapped around him and he sobbed in relief._

* * *

_“HE MUST DIE! I WILL NOT STAND HIS PRESENCE ANY LONGER!”_

_“HE SAVED MAS! YOU CAN NOT KILL HIM! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!”_

_His parents were arguing. Mas scrunched up into a little ball, hands covering his ears and blue blankets hiding his face. All Mas wanted was his minder to be scrunched up next to him and the searing image of his father’s deranged, glowing eyes peeking behind his eyelids to go away._

* * *

_When his minder was led out to the firing range, Mas was standing between his father and his mother, as he always did for formal events. His parents never liked standing next to each other, and on this day it seemed especially so. Although his minder was bruised, bleeding, and marching to his death, his back was straight and proud, just as Mas would always remember it being. For the first time, everyone saw his minder as Mas saw him._

_His minder stood alone, facing the assembly of Galrans and Altean representatives with a solemn expression. The device broadcasting the event hummed with power._

_“People of New Altea, before you is a traitor to this planet: Lance McClain of Earth and the leader of the Lions, a rebel group who has harmed and worked against this people for many years. Yesterday he and his group of fellow traitors attacked the palace. They were utterly crushed, and now we finally have him..._

_“For his crimes against New Altea and the Galtran-Altean Alliance, the traitor Lance McClain will be executed by firing squad.”_

_Mas’ father gave the confirmation to the soldiers armed with blasters standing in front of his minder. The prince was filled with a sense of terror, and his mother’s hand tightened around his shoulder._

_Why were they going to hurt his minder?_

_The squad leader shouted a command, and the killing hands lifted their blasters to aim at his beloved minder. His mother surged forward, screaming for them to stop, to drop their weapons at once, but Mas was starting to understand that there was only one person who had power here and that was his father, the king. What power did the Altean Representative have, even if she was the king’s wife?_

_The sounds of blaster fire cut through everything else, and Mas caught one last glimpse of his minder’s eyes as he died. His minder had never stopped looking at Mas, and the little boy shuddered and shook at the sight of the growing red mixed with too much blue, too much lost._

_His father was yelling, the crowd was shouting, his mother was still screaming and sobbing, and Mas realized he was too._

* * *

The river gardens belonging to the palace were Representative Romelle’s favorite place on the planet. If Mas was going to find her anywhere, it was there. And he was right.

His mother sat on her favorite bench by the river bank, reading the thin book in her hands and periodically glancing up to look across the river. Her maidservants rested a respectful distance away, whispering to each other. When Mas entered their sight, they made no mention to their mistress, knowing the mischievous prince liked to surprise his mother.  

Today, however, there was something else on his mind.

“Mother,” he began, announcing his presence, “may I speak to you?”

She turned, a little surprised at his formality. “Of course,” she said, patting the space beside her on the bench.

Mas nervously sat beside his mother, a little distance between them. She frowned, and Mas supposed it was because he was not one to be far away. He always sought out cuddles and warm hugs from his mother. “It has to do with what happened yesterday.”

His mother stilled, and then, taking a deep breath, shooed her maidservants away. When Mas had come stumbling through the palace gates with the royal guard early that morning, his mother was waiting there for him. She had wrapped him into her arms and wept in relief and something else. She seemed almost...guilty.

“Lina told you everything?”

A little stunned with her bluntness, he nodded.

“And you want me to confirm it?”

Again, a nod.

“You can trust what Lina told you,” the Altean said simply. She pulled him into a hug, and hurriedly whispered in his ear, “Your true parents are Queen Allura and the Red Paladin, Lance McClain. Lina and Hugo are your siblings. Lotor forced me to marry him in order to better secure his position. To save you and the people of New Altea, your father gave you up and became your minder. He was looking for the device that blocked communications and transport both on and off of the planet. He found it, but before he could relay the information to the Lions, a more violent rebel group attacked the palace, and your father was forced to reveal his identity to protect you. Lotor killed him when he discovered who he was.

“The name your parents gave you was not Mas; you are Alfor, the son of two Voltron paladins, two people that I loved dearly, and they loved you even more.”

Although Mas was told this the night before, he had not quite believed it until now, after hearing it confirmed by the woman who raised him. It was still just as shocking.

The representative held him close for another moment, whispering, “It was a pleasure to be your mother, even if you are not truly mine.” She pulled back, giving him a sad, proud smile.

Mas felt his throat close up and tears prick his eyes. Even if she wasn’t the woman who gave birth to him, Romelle had been his mother ever since he could remember. He dove back into another hug, the Altean woman giving a small gasp in surprise.

“Thank you, Mother.”

* * *

Lotor was in one of his moods. He could tell by his slow movements and the distant, not quite present look in his eyes. When Mas was brought back to the palace the night before, the man who raised him had only looked at the boy briefly, acting as if the sight of Mas burned him. Mas knew him well enough to know it was only a precursor to a day of strange words, painful glances, and far off stares. It was not the first time something like this had happened, so Mas was not alarmed.

Mas was invited to dine with Lotor and Romelle at dinner. As expected, his mother was not there, forever hating the thought of breaking bread with the man who had destroyed her family and enslaved her people. Mas could not fault her, but he had a goal to fulfill, a question to answer.

It was not answered until after the food had been cleared away and the light began to dim.

“You look so much like her,” his father said.

“Like who, Father?”

“Your mother.”

Mas knew he was not referring to Representative Romelle.

“You have her hair...and the curve of your nose and chin are the same. I loved her more than anything in the universe...and yet...she did not choose me.”

Lotor’s weary, distant gaze moved from Mas’ face to stretch into the vastness of space, where the Castle of Lions had disappeared to with New Altea’s Queen over ten deca-phoebs ago. The prince looked too, and wondered if the half-Galran was thinking the same thing: was Queen Allura sitting out there, just outside the barrier, waiting for it to fall? Was she wondering about her family, and her children who were all grown now, and wishing she could be by their side? Did she long for her husband, the man she chose over Lotor?

Lotor turned to him again, not quite seeing him, and said, “I am glad you are safe. You may go now.”

Mas nodded and bid the man who killed his father a good night’s sleep.

Previously, when the man he called father was in one of his moods, Mas had been confused about what he was saying. When he learned the truth the night before and then from Romelle, Mas was even more so. Now, Mas understood far more than he wished he did.

* * *

The deepest and innermost chambers of the palace were terrifying at night. They were dark, silent, and barren; still in a way no home should be. As a young child, Mas had never ventured down these halls, too afraid of the monsters called up from his imagination that were hiding in every corner, beyond every window.

But now, Mas knew that to defeat both the monsters of his mind and the very real ones in his life, he had to find what was hidden at the end of these halls. He only hoped his suspicions were correct.

No one was ever in this section of the palace, not even the royal guards. Mas and every other person had always assumed it was because there was no reason to be there. It was completely empty. Mas had been searching for almost a week now since his tumble into the river, and after exploring many other parts of the palace, he determined that what he was looking for _must_ be here.

That did not mean he liked it.

He tried to sneak, but Mas did not think he did very well. Every step sounded like a thunderclap, every breath a crashing wave. He had a suspicion that his sneaking was only making him _more_ noticeable. He crossed another hall, wincing at every scuff his shoes made. What did his mother-- _not mother_ \--always say? Oh, right.

_Pick up your feet, Mas!_

He carefully turned another corner, lifting his feet high with each step. His eyes widened in excitement at what he saw. There was a large door on the far wall, complete with a keypad. Could that be it?

Mouth dry, Mas approached the door--the only locked door he had seen since entering this part of the palace. Besides that small fact, there was nothing about this door that made it stand out. It was plain and ordinary, just like most of the other doors in the palace. Even the keypad was not strange; many other places in the palace had them. But, somehow, Mas knew that he had found it.

There was only one problem: what was the code?

Tapping his chin, Mas frowned and squinted as he tried to decipher the keys. As far as he could tell, each of the keys had one character, a mixture from both the Galran and the Altean alphabets. They different characters made a variety of sounds, including  “r”, “lu”, “b”, “e”, “qu”, “ve”, and “kr”. What he had to find was a pattern. He brushed his fingertips across the keys as if simply touching them could give him some kind of hint.

What connected these letters? What was his father thinking about when he created his code? What was his purpose?

He thought back to the things he discovered the past week; his true parentage, the fact that he had siblings, and that his “parents” had been hiding the world from him. A thought flew across his mind, bright and brilliant and blue.

_...Blue?_

Mas frantically scanned the keyboard, and sure enough, there were three different ways to type “blue”; one used all Galran, one used all Altean, and the last was a mix of the two. Knowing his father, it was the third option. The prince confidently pressed the corresponding keys, and upon hearing the telltale _click_ , pushed open the door.

What he saw was something no one could ever prepare for.

There was a giant robotic...lion in the enormous chamber. A giant robotic _red_ lion. Mouth gaping, the young prince hesitantly approached the intimidating creature, as a mouse might sneak past, well, a giant robotic lion. Perhaps Mas should have escaped the opposite direction, but the boy was never one to run away from a mystery, and this was certainly just that.

The lion was not sitting, but rather splayed on its side as if napping in the non-existent sunlight. As he got closer to the head, Mas could see that such a scenario could hardly be closer to the truth. If this had been a regular lion, it would be very clearly dead. A large hole went clean through its head, exposing bits of complicated wiring and circuitry. The red and silver of the lion’s metal was dirty, blackened, and overall greatly in need of a good wash.

Even though he had never known his lion before, a strange feeling of sorrow welled up in the young boy’s chest as he stared into its cold, dead eyes. This had been his minder’s--(what had they called him? Oh, right)-- _his papa’s_ lion. He brushed his hand against the cool metal snout, wondering if the Red Paladin had done the same many times before. Was the lion killed when King Lotor invaded the planet? Was his minder forced to leave it behind? _Was_ it dead?

A strange humming then pulled his attention away from the fallen lion. Following the sound, the prince turned his gaze to what lied beyond: a machine. His breath caught in his throat. Mas could guess what it was. For its enormous purpose and the number of people searching for it, the machine was not very large. In fact, if it was not for the unsettling and heavy feeling he felt when looking at it, he would have thought it to be an unassuming but rather elegant box sitting against the wall.

It was white and decorated with delicate purple Altean swirls, and teal windows pulsed with light. As he approached it, Mas could feel his bones thrumming with the great power the machine held, and the glowing lines of light originating from the box and running across the floor also reflected that. He could not believe that after so many had searched for it, Mas was the one to find the machine that kept the people of New Altea completely cut off from the vast expanse outside. His minder was right.

“Mas?”

Heart stuttering to a stop, the prince whipped around. Representative Romelle stood beside the Red Lion, staring at him and the machine with a combination of shock, pride, and overwhelming horror.

“What are you doing here, Mother?”

She ran to him, calm urgency overcoming her expression. “I was keeping an eye on you.”

“Why?”

His mother smiled somberly. “Because I had a feeling this day was coming soon.”

A moment passed and then they both remembered where they were and what they stood before.

“So this is it?” she said to herself. Nodding with determination, Romelle kicked the machine.

“Mother?!”

She ignored him, delivering a few more solid kicks. Then, against all reason, the lid slid open. Romelle grinned. “A very useful invention the Green Paladin herself made many years ago,” she explained, showing him the steel-tipped toes of her boot. “From what little I understand, the technology disguised under the steel sends out a scrambling signal when it is under great pressure, messing up the programming in all sorts of locks. The only lock I have not managed to kick open is the one to this chamber, so thank you for opening it, Mas.”

“...You are welcome, Mother,” he responded, a bit confused.

She smiled sadly at the title, and then they both looked inside the box. Within was an orb filled with glowing, purple energy, or (if Mas was to guess), quintessence. A complicated tangle of mechanical arms held it in place, leaving Mas to wonder how the machine operated, and how to shut it off. It seemed Romelle had no such reservations. She forcefully ripped the orb from its box and threw it against the wall, shattering the power source.

The air rippled and immediately the lines of power flickered off. The two stood still for a moment, and then Romelle said, “That was easier than I expected, although probably a very bad idea. Time to go!”

She grabbed the prince’s arm and pulled him along as she raced out of the chamber, glancing briefly at the fallen lion as they passed.

“Mother?! What’s going on?!”

“No time! We have to get you out of here!”

As they left the chamber and charged down the empty, twisting halls of the inner palace, a shrieking alarm went off. Mas’ pulse quickened with fright. Was the alarm going off because the orb had been crushed? No, that could not be it since there was too long of a delay. Then, had they noticed that the barrier was down? _Was_ the barrier down? Or was this something completely unrelated?

They came to the more populated part of the palace. It was chaos, a strange thing to see in the dead of night. Alteans and Galrans could be seen every which way, rushing to their posts or the nearest safe haven. A trio of Galran soldiers took notice of Mas and Romelle.

“Representative!” the first soldier exclaimed. “There has been an intruder. You and the prince must retreat. We will escort you to your safe haven.”

“Thank you,” his mother responded, as if she had no hand in causing the emergency. Aided by the escort, Mas and Romelle were quickly lead to the royal safe haven. They stepped inside the room, and the soldiers secured the doors, promising to ward off any possible attacks from the outside.

They were alone, and against all reason, safe. The half-Altean dropped to the floor, catching his breath, but the other paused merely for a moment.

“Come, Mas, we are not done yet.”

By the time the prince picked himself from the floor, Romelle had seemingly created a passage out of nowhere. Following his mother’s beckoning hand, Mas went down the tunnel, leaving safety behind once again.

At the other end was what the boy supposed to be a hangar, complete with a small, one person pod. Romelle opened it up and shoved a few bags full of supplies from the safe haven inside and turned on the pod’s systems.

Mas, on the other hand, looked around the small chamber, taking special note of what he thought looked like doors large enough for the pod to fly through.

“What is this place?”

Not looking up from what she was doing in the pod, Romelle answered, “This is a place to escape. Now climb into the pod; it is time for you to go.”

The boy jumped down to the pod and looked inside, none too eager to enter the cramped space. “What do you mean by ‘you’? You have to come too,” he insisted as Romelle helped to strap him in. Even as he said it, Mas knew there was no way both of them could go. There simply was not enough space. “Mother, I am not leaving without you.”

She snapped in the last tether and stood still, eyes hidden. “I cannot go, but you must. Your real mother is waiting out there, and you must bring her and the other paladins of Voltron here. It is the only way to free our people.”

Romelle finally looked at him. “I love you, Mas, and I loved being your mother. But now it is time for you to be Allie, the son of Red and Blue.” She pressed parting kiss to his forehead. “Be safe, and be smart. We will see you soon.”

“No...WAIT-”

The pod closed and the hangar door slid open. For the first time in over ten deca-phoebs, a ship left New Altea’s atmosphere.

**Author's Note:**

> This story won't likely be too long, so maybe more or less 30,000 words. That's a very rough estimate though. I know this first bit was pretty short, but it's just the prologue, so expect over 2,000 words for the actual chapters. Also, I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I'm excited to get this story going. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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